


Oh, the Cleverness of Him

by penlex



Category: DCU, Young Justice (Cartoon)
Genre: Daddy Bats doesn't want his Baby Bird to grow up, Fluff, Gen, Robin is Peter Pan, Robin is a Troll, batfam, obviously
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-24
Updated: 2011-12-24
Packaged: 2017-10-27 23:30:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/301251
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/penlex/pseuds/penlex
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Batman is missing Robin now that he’s joined another team, so Robin sends someone else to attend to his job of Trolling.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Oh, the Cleverness of Him

**Author's Note:**

> Oh, the cleverness of my Peter Pan reference...

The day had been stressful for one Bruce Wayne, and the night wasn’t about to be any less so. Dick had gone off with his teammates/friends, as Robin, almost accidentally-on-purpose leaving his mask (he thought he was so sneaky, but Bruce didn’t moonlight as the Greatest Detective in the World for kicks, unless you were being irritatingly literal).  
   
Bruce hadn’t been particularly surprised at missing Dick’s presence in the period of time in between when school let out and when night fell, but the absence of Robin had hit him unexpectedly hard. Now, after a sucky day full of meetings with a bunch of useless rich guys, a quiet dinner alone (although Alfred did offer to join him), and an inexplicable headache, Bruce is doggedly avoiding all the windows in Wayne manor (easier said than done). He is hoping that maybe if he can’t _see_ the Batlight it will just not go on, and he won’t have to take to the streets to crime-fight without his sarcastic and pun-filled sidekick.  
   
Wishful thinking never got anybody anywhere, though, and before dusk has even fully descended into dark Bruce becomes Batman, having seen a second moon rise from the corner of his eye, and if he is scowling a little harder than usual it is just to make sure whatever criminals he will be apprehending will be more heavily discouraged from misbehavior in the future. Batman doubts anyone will ask about it anyway, unless Gordon is feeling particularly meddlesome.  
   
Bats fly lazily around in the Batcave, just waking up and preparing to hunt. Batman glares at them as he slides into the Batmobile. It starts up with a growl and a purr, startling the flying mammals out of their complacency. The sleek car and the flock of bats speed out of the Cave together, the perfect imagery for a dramatic entrance from The Batman.  
   
Batman breaks all the limits (because that’s what Batman does) on his way, locks and conceals the Batmobile when he gets there, and melds into the shadows of the building as he makes his way to the roof.  
   
Batman observes his surroundings automatically upon landing and tenses when he realizes Gordon isn’t there, waiting for an ambush. He creeps forward on silent feet, not looking at the Batlight just yet so that he can keep his eyes totally clear and prepared to see in the dark.  
   
No ambush comes. There is no eerie cackling, no breathless commissioner, no note for ransom, no message or threat, and no defiant redheaded teenager. So why is the light on?  
   
Batman glances up where the light imprints his symbol on the night sky (perhaps there is a message for him _there_ ) and suddenly realizes that the shape in it is wrong (testament to his imbalance tonight that he didn’t notice before he left the Cave).  
   
Encircled in a perfect orb of silvery artificial light floats the shadow of an S-shield, innocently staring unblinkingly down at Batman like it belongs there. He spins abruptly enough to send his cape flying out in a wide arc and stalks over to the spotlight. He glares at it, but slowly wilts, uncomprehending.  
   
The near-silent tap of a shoe meeting the roof comes from behind him, followed by the gentle sigh of a cape falling around a body. Batman twitches, not sure what reaction this should garner from him.  
   
“What are you doing in Gotham?” he demands, his raspy voice disturbing the silence of the air as his car had disturbed the silence of the Cave.  
   
“I heard you had a bad day,” says Superman, but in Clark Kent’s voice. Batman turns around to take in his friend; the Man of Steel with the bashful eyes of a quiet journalist. With that expression on his face, Clark looks like just a normal man, dressed up for Halloween. Were he not more wary of their surroundings, Batman would be tempted to call him by name.  
   
“So you decided to make it worse?” he growls instead. Clark shakes his head and grins, coming forward on light feet.  
   
“Well, I was aiming to give you a night off,” he says. “But since you’re here…” His voice trails away, his eyes turning from bashful to hopeful. Batman snorts.  
   
“Of course you would need help.” Superman’s grin only widens, instead of him taking that as the insult it is, and he gestures Batman forward.  
   
“I’ve been tracking these drug dealers…”  
   
They end up in the sewers. Batman has no idea what Superman is talking about, has never heard of the drugs Superman claims to have overheard the alleged dealers discussing. They are alleged because Batman hasn’t actually _seen_ them yet, relying on Superman’s Kryptonian senses to keep them in pursuit.  
   
When they reach a particularly foul-smelling fork in the sewage system’s tunnels Superman turns around, bringing Batman up short.  
   
“Robin told me to give you a message before I leave,” he tells Batman solemnly.  
   
“Leave.” It was meant to be a question but Batman’s voice is completely deadpan, unaccepting of what he knows is coming.  
   
“He said, ‘Troll.’” Superman nods, and then is gone, just a bare second before Batman’s gloved hands close where his throat was before.  
   
Grumbling and kicking things, his cape swishing and snapping around corners like he’s Snape or something, Batman circles back around to where this face began. On the roof, he puts his boot through the spotlight bearing Superman’s shield, then drops straight down the side of the building onto the street and heads for where he left the Batmobile.  
   
It’s gone. He knows no one could’ve gotten in without Batcodes, so he’s not worried it’s been stolen, but it’s irksome all the same that he has to walk home. Although he does notice that there is a distinct lack of criminals around; anywhere they might’ve been seems to have been hurriedly abandoned.  
   
Batman enters his cave to the echoing soundtrack of Robin’s laughter, the swish of a cape, and then silence. And to think he’d missed the little shit. The Batmobile sits innocently in its designated spot, and the real bats are returning too because dawn will be approaching soon.  
   
Batman changes back into Bruce and climbs the stairs up into Wayne manor. Alfred is sitting at the kitchen table with some tea. The butler doesn’t bother to check Bruce over for injury like he usually does, just smirks at him. So he was in on it, and can probably smell the sewage stench that is clinging to Bruce’s skin. Bruce glares as he storms up to his room.  
   
He showers, puts on pajamas, curses Robin’s name. But Bruce Wayne goes to sleep with a smile (or as close to one as he gets) on his face.  
   
Bruce wakes up with weak newborn sunlight streaming in from outside, making the pattern of a window drape over his covers and face, to find a smaller body pressing itself up against his.  
   
“How did your mission go?” he mumbles, letting gravity tug his arms around his young acrobat (his baby bird). His voice sounds more like Batman’s than Bruce’s because he’s been sleeping.  
   
“Surprisingly successful, this time,” Dick tells him, with no small measure of pride and satisfaction. Bruce feels proud as well, but also vaguely uncomfortable for reasons he cannot fathom. He can tell Dick is grinning when the teen speaks again.  
   
“I’ll never grow up,” he says. Bruce envisions the spark in Dick’s blue eyes that he knows is there – the one Robin would’ve been wearing tonight if he had been in Superman’s place.  
   
“Is that a threat?” he asks, subconsciously tugs him closer. Dick lets loose his usual laugh (although without the echo it’s much less creepy) and shakes his head, his messy black hair drags across Bruce’s chin in a way that might’ve been ticklish once upon a time.  
   
“No.” Dick’s tone implies he knows something Bruce doesn’t, but Bruce doesn’t mind so much when he adds, “It’s a promise.”

**Author's Note:**

> look me up on [tumblr](http://redblooded-disadvantage.tumblr.com/) for stale meta n fresh memes


End file.
